Preparedness (2/3)
Title: Preparedness (2/3)
Rating: R
Length: 4, 204 words
Fandom: One Direction
Characters: Liam Payne, Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles, Niall Horan,
Ships: Liam/Zayn
Notes: This contains self-harm and descriptions of it.
Summary: Liam has a deadly secret and addiction.
The worst part of admitting that you had a problem was that now people looked at you differently. It was a horrible, sinking feeling, keeping it to yourself. Almost suffocating, even. But you were in your own protective, jaded bubble and no one could even tell something was wrong. That is, if you were good enough at faking it. You always had to be good at faking. Every single smile was etched into your face, it wouldn’t just come naturally, and you had to practice. It hurt your face to smile, and it broke your heart to smile. It just wasn’t real. And it was some sort of sinking relief to find out that you actually did have a problem. That it wasn’t just imaginary and you really true were fucked up. But, then again, reality had to sink in. And you realize, you have a problem.
The worst part of everything in all of this was that Zayn no longer looked at Liam the same. He was careful when touching him, and hesitant in speaking. He was never careful with Liam before and it was almost refreshing. Everyone in his life seemed to always treat him like some kind of charity case since he had reached high fame. Zayn and the rest of the boys were the only ones that treated him with some type of normalcy. But now it felt like it was all fake, the kindness, the favors, the constant badgering if he was alright. Zayn only seemed to care because he was forced to care, and he was certain that Louis had told Zayn that he knew. The two would speak in urgent whispers to one another, quickly pull away from one another and smile at Liam as he drew nearer.
Liam took initiative one day, and he strolled up to Louis and spoke bitterly, “I thought I told you not to say anything.”
Louis was sitting by himself, his ankles in the pool, swinging them back and forth. He slowly turned to look up at Liam, took off his sunglasses, his piercing blue eyes maneuvering over Liam’s anger twisted face, “What do you mean, mate?”
Liam rolled his eyes and shook his head in annoyance, “No, don’t do that. Don’t pull that shit with me. You told Zayn that you knew didn’t you?”
Louis stuttered, “Well, um, I-“
“Didn’t you?” Liam’s spiteful voice rose.
Louis flung his sunglasses down beside him and stood up; shaking off his wet legs and folding his pants back down. He sighed and looked into Liam’s questioning eyes, “No, okay, I didn’t. He asked me if I knew if there was something wrong with you. I can’t lie to him.”
“I told you not to say anything,” Liam’s voice stung.
“Well, I won’t say anything to Niall and Harry,” Louis told him carefully. “But I can’t say the same for Zayn, he’s your boyfriend. He told me how he, uh, found you.”
“Why would he tell you that?” Liam asked softly, feeling utterly betrayed. His eyes flickering from Louis’ and shifting away from him slightly.
“Liam, it’s…it’s not like that,” Louis tried to explain, voice thick. “He was just…worried. He knew that I knew, alright.”
“How did he know that, Lou? Did you let something slip?” Liam’s voice was cracking; he had never felt more betrayed or confused.
“No, Li,” Louis sighed in desperation. “I would never tell him anything, why would I do that to you?”
“Because I’m not normal, alright?” Liam buried his fingers In his hair, biting his lip to keep from crying. “I know I’m not normal. I know I need help…but I can’t go back there, Lou. I just can’t.”
Louis reached over to Liam and tugged him into his arms. He allowed Liam to cry against his shoulder, tears leaking through the thin fabric. He didn’t mind, though, as he rubbed soft circles into Liam’s shaking back. He rested his chin on top of Liam’s head, supplying comfort the best way that he knew how. Liam slowly backed away, wiping away his tears swiftly. He was trying to cover up his act of defeat, but Louis saw right through him. He knew that underneath this façade that Liam was truly hurting. That he needed help and medical help, at that.
“But we won’t take you somewhere bad,” Louis shook his head. “We’ll take you somewhere good. You’ll really get help. It won’t be a -“
“No!” Liam shouted at him. “No, you don’t get it do you? I can’t do hospitals anymore.”
“Do you want to die?” Louis blurted angrily before he could stop himself. “Do you really want to do this to us? We’re trying to fucking help you!”
“Please,” Liam replied shakily. “I’m doing the best that I can…”
“Why won’t you let us help you? You can’t keep doing this, Liam, you’re gonna hurt yourself real bad one day, and how are we gonna get on without you?” Louis asked him, his voice was almost pleading.
Liam looked down at the ground, “See; now this just makes me feel even worse, even more selfish.”
“Liam, you are not selfish at all,” Louis quickly opposed. “You’re just a little unwell.”
And even as unwell as Liam was, and he knew he was, he couldn’t bring himself to go see a specialist. And the days passed and Liam thought that maybe he was getting better. He actually wanted to wake up, and he had a decent time with the rest of the boys, usually. It was almost as if all of his scars had been forgotten. It was almost as if everything had been erased and atoned. Even Zayn didn’t say anything to him, no more worried looks, or whispers with Louis. It was exactly how he wanted it, it was all back to normal.
Zayn wasn’t gentle anymore, either. He scraped his teeth across Liam’s collar bone, palming his hardness through his joggers. Liam gasped, and thrust his hips up to meet Zayn’s. And it was all so pleasurable, it was all so normal, and it felt so good. It just felt so good to rub up against Zayn, to feel his weight upon his. The hot heavy friction of their lips smashing together, almost hungrily. But there was always a sweet feeling to it, always something sincere behind it. And Liam felt Zayn’s hand snake up his shirt, sliding over the scars that he didn’t even know were there, fresh scars, scars that he thought were gone. He slowly began to slide up the fabric, lowering his mouth to kiss around Liam’s chest, when Liam stirred beneath him, trying to break away.
“What’s wrong, babe?” Zayn asked through heavy breaths, looking up at him.
“Erm, nothing,” Liam lied, squirming around beneath Zayn. “I just…I’m a little tired is all.”
“How?” Zayn was almost disbelieving. “You were just hot and ready a minute ago.”
“Yeah, but,” Liam stuttered, hoping his mouth would be faster than his brain. “We have a busy day tomorrow, probably not best to stay up fooling around.”
“What is there something you’re not telling me?” Zayn asked, suddenly accusing, standing up and pulling back on his own shirt.
Liam was almost taken aback, “I-what…Zayn, no. I just…I’m not ready.”
“You’re never ready,” Zayn muttered bitterly.
“Why is this an issue now?” Liam pressed, struggling to comprehend Zayn’s anger. “You’ve always respected my-“
“Yeah, well, you’re not being honest with me,” Zayn interrupted heatedly. “Is it someone else?”
“Zayn!” Liam choked out. “Are you accusing me of cheating?”
Zayn bit his lip, looking anxiously around the room and tapping his fingers on the table beside the bed, “No, I don’t…know. I just know that you’re not honest with me, Liam. And I thought we had that.”
“What do you mean?” Liam demanded. “I tell you every little aspect of my life.”
“Not this!” Zayn retorted contemptuously. “Why do I have to come in and find you bleeding out on the bathroom floor? Why is that something I have to see, why is that something I don’t already know? You want to end your life, and you can’t even tell your own boyfriend?”
Liam clapped his hand to his mouth to stifle a sob, and he had always struggled with words, but this was worse. He never wanted for Zayn to have to find out like this, he had never wanted Zayn to find out at all. He didn’t want to have to be like this. He knew he was nuisance for other people and that he always had been. He could vividly remember his sister telling him this that he was nuisance.
“Mum’s unhappy,” Ruth told him one day over dinner, he was sixteen at the time, and Ruth was required to stay at home and ‘take care of the house’ while their parents were out. But they both knew that Ruth was actually meant to be taking care of Liam.
“What for?” Liam asked casually, grimacing at the lanky green beans that Ruth did a half-assed job of cooking.
“You really don’t know?” She raised her eyebrows at him
He scowled up at her, “No, how would I know?”
“It’s because of you, really,” she replied, cutting into her chicken, and he was appalled that she could be so unpremeditated.
“What did I do?”
“You’re wasting all her money,” Ruth retorted bluntly. “I’m going to uni in two months, leaving college, and all their money is going towards you and your stupid therapy visits and medicine.”
“I can’t help it,” Liam started.
“Oh, yes, you can,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re just thinking about it too much. I mean, you can control your thoughts. You’re just not trying hard enough.”
Liam bit his lip and looked away, struggling not to cry. He glanced down at his wrist at the faint white outlines that stared up at him. It was just the sort of thing he had expected Ruth to say, that it was his entire fault, that he could control it. And how he wished that he could, how he wished that he didn’t have to be such a burden upon his whole family. And how he wished that his suicide attempt had actually worked out, then Ruth could go to university happily and the whole family could get on with their lives.
“I wish it were that easy,” he told her trying to keep his voice steady.
“Yeah, but it is that easy,” Ruth insisted. “What did your girlfriend break up with your or something?”
“I didn’t even have a girlfriend this year.”
“Is that why?”
“Fuck you, Ruth,” Liam spat severely. “Really. Just fuck you.”
“See there you go again!” Ruth shouted at him as he exited the kitchen. “Being a little baby again!”
He could remember running up the stairs, legs threatening to give out beneath him. Tears clouding his vision and the heavy pounding of blood flowing to his head. He slammed the bathroom door, frantically looking for something to hurt himself with. All the razors had been removed, and he could fill his heart pounding out of his chest. He found nothing, he searched frantically but there was nothing there at all. Why were they trying to stop him, when they really wanted him gone in the first place?
He came to a conclusion, and quickly tugged his belt out of the loop holes. He wasn’t even thinking as his body somehow moved from point a to point b. Tangling the belt around the pole of the shower curtain. He hardly remembered the feel of the soft faded leather pushing against the tender skin of his neck, cutting off his circulation first, his feet kicking out below him. He realized he wasn’t ready to go, not just yet, and he tried to yell out but his words were stuck in his throat. But who was going to listen to him anyway?
And it was a sick twist of fate when his body collapsed onto the shower floor. The door banged open and Ruth screamed and wailed, calling out his name repeatedly. Hysterically moving her hands every which way to tug the belt away from his bruised neck. She gasped and hiccupped that she loved him, she asked him why a lot, and he even wondered this to himself. Why?
He always knew that God had a plan for him, or so his family said, or really, so his pastor said. He was forced to go to church with his family, and it was never usually fun. Liam believed in God, he just didn’t think God really listened. He wondered how God could let all of this go on, and when he asked his pastor, he had a simple reply.
“God works in mysterious ways,” he replied slowly, his words tumbling out his mouth like smoke. “But everything he does is for a reason. “
But what was the reason for rape and death and suicide? Was it to teach all those ‘loose women’ a lesson, as his father called them. Was it to teach the ‘bad guys’ a lesson? To put them in jail to keep them away from society? Was it because He was just done with you, and decided He didn’t care anymore, so why should you care? And Liam wanted to ask God these questions. He wanted to ask why God had put him on this earth, when he didn’t even want to be on it anyway. He was only half-living, constantly in auto-pilot seeing life through someone else’s eyes. His life was measured by the therapy visits he had once every other week, the laps upon laps that he would run upon the smooth, asphalt of the track. Nothing was even right anymore.
“I didn’t mean it,” Ruth sobbed into his hair, her wet mouth smothering his face with kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you so much, Li, please don’t leave me.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you like this,” Liam finally brought himself to say, his eyes meeting Zayn’s, who were red and his cheeks were streaked with tears. He patted at the spot on the bed beside him. “Come here.”
Zayn complied and crawled beside Liam, resting his head upon Liam’s chest. Liam wrapped his arms around Zayn’s shoulders, holding him close enough so Zayn could hear his heartbeat. The heart that would only speed up whenever Zayn was around and that was something that could never change.
“Why couldn’t you just tell me?” Zayn muttered weakly.
“I wish that I could have,” Liam admitted, tracing his thumb over Zayn’s shoulder. “I really, really do. But once people find out they don’t treat me the same. They just don’t. They act like I’m some kind of extinct animal or something, like I always have to be protected. They act like I’m glass, and that I have to be handled with care. But I just…I want to be treated like everyone else. I’m normal, I just have some issues.”
“You’re just depressed,” Zayn replied evenly, stretching his neck up and affectionately nipping Liam’s jaw. “And I can handle that.”
Liam looked down at him and grinned and shook his head, “No you can’t. People say they’re prepared, but they’re not.”
“Liam, I saw you bleeding out on the floor, and I still haven’t left you,” Zayn pointed out. “What on earth makes you think I would leave now?”
“I don’t want to be a burden,” Liam attested, his voice growing more morose as the memories became fresh in his mind again. “I’ve been a burden to everyone all my life, and I can’t do that to you too.”
“Babe, if I didn’t wanna deal with it, I wouldn’t,” Zayn reassured him, glancing up into his eyes. “It’s that simple.”
“But you kind of have to,” Liam maintained. “I mean, we’re in a band together. We’re always forced to be around each other, how could you get away?”
“Well, how do I put it?” Zayn had a bit of a teasing tone to his voice. “If I didn’t like you, I’d quit. I’d break up with you, and depending on the awkwardness of it all, I’d quit. It’s just that easy. I don’t just stick around people or things that I don’t like. I love you too much to leave you.”
“But people always say that,” Liam replied dejectedly.
Zayn grabbed Liam’s hand and squeezed it tight, “Hey,” he called softly. He sat up and looked directly into Liam’s eyes. Scanning his whole face, as if he were searching for something. He leaned in so unbearably close that Liam could detect the faint smell of mint on his breath and his aftershave. And it just smelled like home to him, inviting, warm. Zayn’s arms were practically angels by his side, and he never needed to ask if they were open, just how wide. He never needed to ask for a kiss or a hug, it seemed as if the timing was always so perfect, Zayn just knew when to touch. He knew Liam better than he knew himself sometimes.
“When I say it,” Zayn started, and he was firm, his grip tightening and his pupils dilating, playing a cat and mouse game with Liam’s own. “I absolutely mean it. You won’t get rid of me that easily, Payne. I can’t just forget about you, and if someone else can, they’re fucking crazy. They don’t love you like I love you. I want you to get better, and I know it’ll take some time, and I’m prepared for that. I’m prepared for you. I’ve never felt like I could be so open with someone before until I met you, I’m glad that someone like you found me.”
Liam gasped and pulled Zayn’s face towards his, his lips smashing into Zayn’s hurriedly, almost, and raw with emotion. He had never felt so beautiful before, only with Zayn. Zayn had a special way of making him feel warm; he had a way of making him feel needed. Zayn was everything Liam had ever hoped for, Zayn was everything that Liam had ever loved all rolled up into one person.
He pulled away, finally, heart pounding again, and his body felt like it was on fire. He finally got the courage to speak, his voice was hoarse by now, worn from crying, “It won’t be easy, y’know.”
Zayn pressed his forehead to Liam’s, and he let out a small grin, “I know. Nobody said it was easy, did they? We’re gonna work at this together. I just don’t want to lose you, Liam, I don’t think I could fucking stand it.”
“On a scale of 1-10 how important am I to you, would you say?” Liam asked, smirking to himself as Zayn let out a little laugh.
“A billion.”
But it certainly wasn’t easy, and Liam refused help, insisting over and over that was absolutely okay. He hadn’t cut himself in 2 weeks, and they were finally back home. It had seemed like ages since he’d even been there. His mother left him a note on the fridge, saying she’d been by to clean for him and that she loved him. He smiled as he saw it, he had missed his mother, and it felt like he had never even seen her in almost a lifetime. And at the bottom of the note he smiled even wider as it read
p.s. zayn has a lot of stuff of his here, get married already! X
And it was true; half of Zayn’s life was here, practically. Shoes and clothing usually strewn on Liam’s bedroom floor, and hair products all over the bathroom sink. There were little pieces of Zayn wherever Liam went in his flat. He could even still see the outline of Zayn’s body in his bed, where he slept most nights. Zayn was always around him, even if Liam couldn’t reach out and touch him, he always had a part of him somewhere.
But the happiness of course was never prolonged for more than a couple of weeks at most. Something always found a way to bring him crashing down again. As much as he loved touring, as much as he loved his job, he missed the mornings where he could just lie in bed with Zayn. Cuddle against his warm, sleeping body and stay there all day. Pressing burning hot kisses all along his tanned torso, moaning as loudly as he wanted when he could feel himself sliding down Zayn’s throat. And even though his family could drive him insane, he still could visit them as often as he liked.
But Liam didn’t cope well with change, he’d like to pretend he was one of those people that had, that could just go with the flow. But he had always had a routine, always. Ever since he was a little child, he was always on some type of schedule. His life had always revolved around the same things, and now it was like everything was so sudden. And he would love to admit that he was spontaneous and that he was ‘down for whatever’ but he always had to have a plan. If he didn’t have a plan, he really was lost. I guess that’s why they all called him Daddy Direction.
“You are a dad,” Harry teased him over dinner at a local bistro In some state that Liam couldn’t even remember the name of, he was so tired, and it all blurred together. “You worry about everything.”
“But see,” Liam countered back. “If I didn’t plan stuff out or worry, how would anything get done?”
“Things just happen on their own, really,” Harry shrugged, tossing a chip into his mouth. “If things are gonna work they do, if they don’t, they don’t.”
“Wise words from Harold, I see,” Louis chipped in, slumping down beside Harry.
“I mean, that’s the best advice I’ve ever heard,” Niall agreed mockingly, plopping on the other side of Liam. “History book material.”
“Fuck off the lot of you,” Harry sneered, squinting at them all.
“I don’t think anyone can beat Zayn’s motivational tweets, though,” Louis added with a smirk.
“What’s wrong with my tweets?” Zayn asked joining them, sitting beside Liam.
“Oh nothing,” Harry shook his head. “Aha!”
“You can fuck off,” Zayn retorted in mock anger. “Your tweets are pointless.”
“Hey, I think they’re pretty profound!” Harry protested.
“What were you guys talking about, anyway?” Zayn asked, helping himself to one of Harry’s chips.
“How Liam’s such a dad,” Harry replied, scowling at Zayn.
“He really is, actually,” Niall agreed. “And if he’s the dad, I guess that Zayn’s the mum.”
“Well, how am I the mum?” Zayn leaned over to look at Niall’s face. “I do bad things all the time.”
“You’re very feminine,” Louis teased.
“Speak for yourself,” Zayn retorted tersely.
“Look, if I didn’t push you guys so much, things would never get done,” Liam shrugged. “I mean, we wouldn’t be where we are now.”
“I mean, I guess your hair was a definite factor, though,” Louis replied smugly. “They see that poofy hair and the panties come off.”
“Zayn’s panties, you mean,” Harry added, his mouth still full of food.
“Fuck off you guys! I don’t wear panties,” Zayn laughed.
But it was situations like these that made Liam believe that maybe he did care and worry too much. That maybe the rest of the group just saw it as a bit of a joke that he struggled with letting things go that they could just move on from without a second thought. But he couldn’t please them all the time and he always had a constant weight of worry on his mind that he just could not seem to shake. Every little thing bothered him, and every little thing made him wonder about the outcomes that could or should have been.
And it was kind of funny and also kind of sad, but when he was cutting he was the happiest. And it literally accomplished nothing, but just causing himself the pain he thought he deserved, was good enough for him. And scars added upon scars and blood became thicker and more of a lush red. He was becoming more disgusting looking, and he pulled away quicker whenever Zayn touched him. And he knew Zayn was aching, he was aching, and he wanted to actually feel Zayn. And he didn’t so much care if their ‘first time’ was special or not, he was more terrified of the welts that rose all over his bodies and remained there, enjoying their stay.
And then just as if he knew he was being thought of, almost like a sixth sense in his mind, Zayn burst into the bathroom, heedless of knocking. His eyes widened in half fear, half disgust as he sunk down beside Liam. Quickly reaching for tissue paper and covering up the cut, clotting the blood that spilled freely from the wound.
“Liam, you need help,” Zayn said firmly, no longer gentle.
And Liam, knowing that at some point it would come to this closed his eyes, and said with a sense of clarity, “I know.”
Rating: R
Length: 4, 204 words
Fandom: One Direction
Characters: Liam Payne, Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles, Niall Horan,
Ships: Liam/Zayn
Notes: This contains self-harm and descriptions of it.
Summary: Liam has a deadly secret and addiction.
The worst part of admitting that you had a problem was that now people looked at you differently. It was a horrible, sinking feeling, keeping it to yourself. Almost suffocating, even. But you were in your own protective, jaded bubble and no one could even tell something was wrong. That is, if you were good enough at faking it. You always had to be good at faking. Every single smile was etched into your face, it wouldn’t just come naturally, and you had to practice. It hurt your face to smile, and it broke your heart to smile. It just wasn’t real. And it was some sort of sinking relief to find out that you actually did have a problem. That it wasn’t just imaginary and you really true were fucked up. But, then again, reality had to sink in. And you realize, you have a problem.
The worst part of everything in all of this was that Zayn no longer looked at Liam the same. He was careful when touching him, and hesitant in speaking. He was never careful with Liam before and it was almost refreshing. Everyone in his life seemed to always treat him like some kind of charity case since he had reached high fame. Zayn and the rest of the boys were the only ones that treated him with some type of normalcy. But now it felt like it was all fake, the kindness, the favors, the constant badgering if he was alright. Zayn only seemed to care because he was forced to care, and he was certain that Louis had told Zayn that he knew. The two would speak in urgent whispers to one another, quickly pull away from one another and smile at Liam as he drew nearer.
Liam took initiative one day, and he strolled up to Louis and spoke bitterly, “I thought I told you not to say anything.”
Louis was sitting by himself, his ankles in the pool, swinging them back and forth. He slowly turned to look up at Liam, took off his sunglasses, his piercing blue eyes maneuvering over Liam’s anger twisted face, “What do you mean, mate?”
Liam rolled his eyes and shook his head in annoyance, “No, don’t do that. Don’t pull that shit with me. You told Zayn that you knew didn’t you?”
Louis stuttered, “Well, um, I-“
“Didn’t you?” Liam’s spiteful voice rose.
Louis flung his sunglasses down beside him and stood up; shaking off his wet legs and folding his pants back down. He sighed and looked into Liam’s questioning eyes, “No, okay, I didn’t. He asked me if I knew if there was something wrong with you. I can’t lie to him.”
“I told you not to say anything,” Liam’s voice stung.
“Well, I won’t say anything to Niall and Harry,” Louis told him carefully. “But I can’t say the same for Zayn, he’s your boyfriend. He told me how he, uh, found you.”
“Why would he tell you that?” Liam asked softly, feeling utterly betrayed. His eyes flickering from Louis’ and shifting away from him slightly.
“Liam, it’s…it’s not like that,” Louis tried to explain, voice thick. “He was just…worried. He knew that I knew, alright.”
“How did he know that, Lou? Did you let something slip?” Liam’s voice was cracking; he had never felt more betrayed or confused.
“No, Li,” Louis sighed in desperation. “I would never tell him anything, why would I do that to you?”
“Because I’m not normal, alright?” Liam buried his fingers In his hair, biting his lip to keep from crying. “I know I’m not normal. I know I need help…but I can’t go back there, Lou. I just can’t.”
Louis reached over to Liam and tugged him into his arms. He allowed Liam to cry against his shoulder, tears leaking through the thin fabric. He didn’t mind, though, as he rubbed soft circles into Liam’s shaking back. He rested his chin on top of Liam’s head, supplying comfort the best way that he knew how. Liam slowly backed away, wiping away his tears swiftly. He was trying to cover up his act of defeat, but Louis saw right through him. He knew that underneath this façade that Liam was truly hurting. That he needed help and medical help, at that.
“But we won’t take you somewhere bad,” Louis shook his head. “We’ll take you somewhere good. You’ll really get help. It won’t be a -“
“No!” Liam shouted at him. “No, you don’t get it do you? I can’t do hospitals anymore.”
“Do you want to die?” Louis blurted angrily before he could stop himself. “Do you really want to do this to us? We’re trying to fucking help you!”
“Please,” Liam replied shakily. “I’m doing the best that I can…”
“Why won’t you let us help you? You can’t keep doing this, Liam, you’re gonna hurt yourself real bad one day, and how are we gonna get on without you?” Louis asked him, his voice was almost pleading.
Liam looked down at the ground, “See; now this just makes me feel even worse, even more selfish.”
“Liam, you are not selfish at all,” Louis quickly opposed. “You’re just a little unwell.”
And even as unwell as Liam was, and he knew he was, he couldn’t bring himself to go see a specialist. And the days passed and Liam thought that maybe he was getting better. He actually wanted to wake up, and he had a decent time with the rest of the boys, usually. It was almost as if all of his scars had been forgotten. It was almost as if everything had been erased and atoned. Even Zayn didn’t say anything to him, no more worried looks, or whispers with Louis. It was exactly how he wanted it, it was all back to normal.
Zayn wasn’t gentle anymore, either. He scraped his teeth across Liam’s collar bone, palming his hardness through his joggers. Liam gasped, and thrust his hips up to meet Zayn’s. And it was all so pleasurable, it was all so normal, and it felt so good. It just felt so good to rub up against Zayn, to feel his weight upon his. The hot heavy friction of their lips smashing together, almost hungrily. But there was always a sweet feeling to it, always something sincere behind it. And Liam felt Zayn’s hand snake up his shirt, sliding over the scars that he didn’t even know were there, fresh scars, scars that he thought were gone. He slowly began to slide up the fabric, lowering his mouth to kiss around Liam’s chest, when Liam stirred beneath him, trying to break away.
“What’s wrong, babe?” Zayn asked through heavy breaths, looking up at him.
“Erm, nothing,” Liam lied, squirming around beneath Zayn. “I just…I’m a little tired is all.”
“How?” Zayn was almost disbelieving. “You were just hot and ready a minute ago.”
“Yeah, but,” Liam stuttered, hoping his mouth would be faster than his brain. “We have a busy day tomorrow, probably not best to stay up fooling around.”
“What is there something you’re not telling me?” Zayn asked, suddenly accusing, standing up and pulling back on his own shirt.
Liam was almost taken aback, “I-what…Zayn, no. I just…I’m not ready.”
“You’re never ready,” Zayn muttered bitterly.
“Why is this an issue now?” Liam pressed, struggling to comprehend Zayn’s anger. “You’ve always respected my-“
“Yeah, well, you’re not being honest with me,” Zayn interrupted heatedly. “Is it someone else?”
“Zayn!” Liam choked out. “Are you accusing me of cheating?”
Zayn bit his lip, looking anxiously around the room and tapping his fingers on the table beside the bed, “No, I don’t…know. I just know that you’re not honest with me, Liam. And I thought we had that.”
“What do you mean?” Liam demanded. “I tell you every little aspect of my life.”
“Not this!” Zayn retorted contemptuously. “Why do I have to come in and find you bleeding out on the bathroom floor? Why is that something I have to see, why is that something I don’t already know? You want to end your life, and you can’t even tell your own boyfriend?”
Liam clapped his hand to his mouth to stifle a sob, and he had always struggled with words, but this was worse. He never wanted for Zayn to have to find out like this, he had never wanted Zayn to find out at all. He didn’t want to have to be like this. He knew he was nuisance for other people and that he always had been. He could vividly remember his sister telling him this that he was nuisance.
“Mum’s unhappy,” Ruth told him one day over dinner, he was sixteen at the time, and Ruth was required to stay at home and ‘take care of the house’ while their parents were out. But they both knew that Ruth was actually meant to be taking care of Liam.
“What for?” Liam asked casually, grimacing at the lanky green beans that Ruth did a half-assed job of cooking.
“You really don’t know?” She raised her eyebrows at him
He scowled up at her, “No, how would I know?”
“It’s because of you, really,” she replied, cutting into her chicken, and he was appalled that she could be so unpremeditated.
“What did I do?”
“You’re wasting all her money,” Ruth retorted bluntly. “I’m going to uni in two months, leaving college, and all their money is going towards you and your stupid therapy visits and medicine.”
“I can’t help it,” Liam started.
“Oh, yes, you can,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re just thinking about it too much. I mean, you can control your thoughts. You’re just not trying hard enough.”
Liam bit his lip and looked away, struggling not to cry. He glanced down at his wrist at the faint white outlines that stared up at him. It was just the sort of thing he had expected Ruth to say, that it was his entire fault, that he could control it. And how he wished that he could, how he wished that he didn’t have to be such a burden upon his whole family. And how he wished that his suicide attempt had actually worked out, then Ruth could go to university happily and the whole family could get on with their lives.
“I wish it were that easy,” he told her trying to keep his voice steady.
“Yeah, but it is that easy,” Ruth insisted. “What did your girlfriend break up with your or something?”
“I didn’t even have a girlfriend this year.”
“Is that why?”
“Fuck you, Ruth,” Liam spat severely. “Really. Just fuck you.”
“See there you go again!” Ruth shouted at him as he exited the kitchen. “Being a little baby again!”
He could remember running up the stairs, legs threatening to give out beneath him. Tears clouding his vision and the heavy pounding of blood flowing to his head. He slammed the bathroom door, frantically looking for something to hurt himself with. All the razors had been removed, and he could fill his heart pounding out of his chest. He found nothing, he searched frantically but there was nothing there at all. Why were they trying to stop him, when they really wanted him gone in the first place?
He came to a conclusion, and quickly tugged his belt out of the loop holes. He wasn’t even thinking as his body somehow moved from point a to point b. Tangling the belt around the pole of the shower curtain. He hardly remembered the feel of the soft faded leather pushing against the tender skin of his neck, cutting off his circulation first, his feet kicking out below him. He realized he wasn’t ready to go, not just yet, and he tried to yell out but his words were stuck in his throat. But who was going to listen to him anyway?
And it was a sick twist of fate when his body collapsed onto the shower floor. The door banged open and Ruth screamed and wailed, calling out his name repeatedly. Hysterically moving her hands every which way to tug the belt away from his bruised neck. She gasped and hiccupped that she loved him, she asked him why a lot, and he even wondered this to himself. Why?
He always knew that God had a plan for him, or so his family said, or really, so his pastor said. He was forced to go to church with his family, and it was never usually fun. Liam believed in God, he just didn’t think God really listened. He wondered how God could let all of this go on, and when he asked his pastor, he had a simple reply.
“God works in mysterious ways,” he replied slowly, his words tumbling out his mouth like smoke. “But everything he does is for a reason. “
But what was the reason for rape and death and suicide? Was it to teach all those ‘loose women’ a lesson, as his father called them. Was it to teach the ‘bad guys’ a lesson? To put them in jail to keep them away from society? Was it because He was just done with you, and decided He didn’t care anymore, so why should you care? And Liam wanted to ask God these questions. He wanted to ask why God had put him on this earth, when he didn’t even want to be on it anyway. He was only half-living, constantly in auto-pilot seeing life through someone else’s eyes. His life was measured by the therapy visits he had once every other week, the laps upon laps that he would run upon the smooth, asphalt of the track. Nothing was even right anymore.
“I didn’t mean it,” Ruth sobbed into his hair, her wet mouth smothering his face with kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you so much, Li, please don’t leave me.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you like this,” Liam finally brought himself to say, his eyes meeting Zayn’s, who were red and his cheeks were streaked with tears. He patted at the spot on the bed beside him. “Come here.”
Zayn complied and crawled beside Liam, resting his head upon Liam’s chest. Liam wrapped his arms around Zayn’s shoulders, holding him close enough so Zayn could hear his heartbeat. The heart that would only speed up whenever Zayn was around and that was something that could never change.
“Why couldn’t you just tell me?” Zayn muttered weakly.
“I wish that I could have,” Liam admitted, tracing his thumb over Zayn’s shoulder. “I really, really do. But once people find out they don’t treat me the same. They just don’t. They act like I’m some kind of extinct animal or something, like I always have to be protected. They act like I’m glass, and that I have to be handled with care. But I just…I want to be treated like everyone else. I’m normal, I just have some issues.”
“You’re just depressed,” Zayn replied evenly, stretching his neck up and affectionately nipping Liam’s jaw. “And I can handle that.”
Liam looked down at him and grinned and shook his head, “No you can’t. People say they’re prepared, but they’re not.”
“Liam, I saw you bleeding out on the floor, and I still haven’t left you,” Zayn pointed out. “What on earth makes you think I would leave now?”
“I don’t want to be a burden,” Liam attested, his voice growing more morose as the memories became fresh in his mind again. “I’ve been a burden to everyone all my life, and I can’t do that to you too.”
“Babe, if I didn’t wanna deal with it, I wouldn’t,” Zayn reassured him, glancing up into his eyes. “It’s that simple.”
“But you kind of have to,” Liam maintained. “I mean, we’re in a band together. We’re always forced to be around each other, how could you get away?”
“Well, how do I put it?” Zayn had a bit of a teasing tone to his voice. “If I didn’t like you, I’d quit. I’d break up with you, and depending on the awkwardness of it all, I’d quit. It’s just that easy. I don’t just stick around people or things that I don’t like. I love you too much to leave you.”
“But people always say that,” Liam replied dejectedly.
Zayn grabbed Liam’s hand and squeezed it tight, “Hey,” he called softly. He sat up and looked directly into Liam’s eyes. Scanning his whole face, as if he were searching for something. He leaned in so unbearably close that Liam could detect the faint smell of mint on his breath and his aftershave. And it just smelled like home to him, inviting, warm. Zayn’s arms were practically angels by his side, and he never needed to ask if they were open, just how wide. He never needed to ask for a kiss or a hug, it seemed as if the timing was always so perfect, Zayn just knew when to touch. He knew Liam better than he knew himself sometimes.
“When I say it,” Zayn started, and he was firm, his grip tightening and his pupils dilating, playing a cat and mouse game with Liam’s own. “I absolutely mean it. You won’t get rid of me that easily, Payne. I can’t just forget about you, and if someone else can, they’re fucking crazy. They don’t love you like I love you. I want you to get better, and I know it’ll take some time, and I’m prepared for that. I’m prepared for you. I’ve never felt like I could be so open with someone before until I met you, I’m glad that someone like you found me.”
Liam gasped and pulled Zayn’s face towards his, his lips smashing into Zayn’s hurriedly, almost, and raw with emotion. He had never felt so beautiful before, only with Zayn. Zayn had a special way of making him feel warm; he had a way of making him feel needed. Zayn was everything Liam had ever hoped for, Zayn was everything that Liam had ever loved all rolled up into one person.
He pulled away, finally, heart pounding again, and his body felt like it was on fire. He finally got the courage to speak, his voice was hoarse by now, worn from crying, “It won’t be easy, y’know.”
Zayn pressed his forehead to Liam’s, and he let out a small grin, “I know. Nobody said it was easy, did they? We’re gonna work at this together. I just don’t want to lose you, Liam, I don’t think I could fucking stand it.”
“On a scale of 1-10 how important am I to you, would you say?” Liam asked, smirking to himself as Zayn let out a little laugh.
“A billion.”
But it certainly wasn’t easy, and Liam refused help, insisting over and over that was absolutely okay. He hadn’t cut himself in 2 weeks, and they were finally back home. It had seemed like ages since he’d even been there. His mother left him a note on the fridge, saying she’d been by to clean for him and that she loved him. He smiled as he saw it, he had missed his mother, and it felt like he had never even seen her in almost a lifetime. And at the bottom of the note he smiled even wider as it read
p.s. zayn has a lot of stuff of his here, get married already! X
And it was true; half of Zayn’s life was here, practically. Shoes and clothing usually strewn on Liam’s bedroom floor, and hair products all over the bathroom sink. There were little pieces of Zayn wherever Liam went in his flat. He could even still see the outline of Zayn’s body in his bed, where he slept most nights. Zayn was always around him, even if Liam couldn’t reach out and touch him, he always had a part of him somewhere.
But the happiness of course was never prolonged for more than a couple of weeks at most. Something always found a way to bring him crashing down again. As much as he loved touring, as much as he loved his job, he missed the mornings where he could just lie in bed with Zayn. Cuddle against his warm, sleeping body and stay there all day. Pressing burning hot kisses all along his tanned torso, moaning as loudly as he wanted when he could feel himself sliding down Zayn’s throat. And even though his family could drive him insane, he still could visit them as often as he liked.
But Liam didn’t cope well with change, he’d like to pretend he was one of those people that had, that could just go with the flow. But he had always had a routine, always. Ever since he was a little child, he was always on some type of schedule. His life had always revolved around the same things, and now it was like everything was so sudden. And he would love to admit that he was spontaneous and that he was ‘down for whatever’ but he always had to have a plan. If he didn’t have a plan, he really was lost. I guess that’s why they all called him Daddy Direction.
“You are a dad,” Harry teased him over dinner at a local bistro In some state that Liam couldn’t even remember the name of, he was so tired, and it all blurred together. “You worry about everything.”
“But see,” Liam countered back. “If I didn’t plan stuff out or worry, how would anything get done?”
“Things just happen on their own, really,” Harry shrugged, tossing a chip into his mouth. “If things are gonna work they do, if they don’t, they don’t.”
“Wise words from Harold, I see,” Louis chipped in, slumping down beside Harry.
“I mean, that’s the best advice I’ve ever heard,” Niall agreed mockingly, plopping on the other side of Liam. “History book material.”
“Fuck off the lot of you,” Harry sneered, squinting at them all.
“I don’t think anyone can beat Zayn’s motivational tweets, though,” Louis added with a smirk.
“What’s wrong with my tweets?” Zayn asked joining them, sitting beside Liam.
“Oh nothing,” Harry shook his head. “Aha!”
“You can fuck off,” Zayn retorted in mock anger. “Your tweets are pointless.”
“Hey, I think they’re pretty profound!” Harry protested.
“What were you guys talking about, anyway?” Zayn asked, helping himself to one of Harry’s chips.
“How Liam’s such a dad,” Harry replied, scowling at Zayn.
“He really is, actually,” Niall agreed. “And if he’s the dad, I guess that Zayn’s the mum.”
“Well, how am I the mum?” Zayn leaned over to look at Niall’s face. “I do bad things all the time.”
“You’re very feminine,” Louis teased.
“Speak for yourself,” Zayn retorted tersely.
“Look, if I didn’t push you guys so much, things would never get done,” Liam shrugged. “I mean, we wouldn’t be where we are now.”
“I mean, I guess your hair was a definite factor, though,” Louis replied smugly. “They see that poofy hair and the panties come off.”
“Zayn’s panties, you mean,” Harry added, his mouth still full of food.
“Fuck off you guys! I don’t wear panties,” Zayn laughed.
But it was situations like these that made Liam believe that maybe he did care and worry too much. That maybe the rest of the group just saw it as a bit of a joke that he struggled with letting things go that they could just move on from without a second thought. But he couldn’t please them all the time and he always had a constant weight of worry on his mind that he just could not seem to shake. Every little thing bothered him, and every little thing made him wonder about the outcomes that could or should have been.
And it was kind of funny and also kind of sad, but when he was cutting he was the happiest. And it literally accomplished nothing, but just causing himself the pain he thought he deserved, was good enough for him. And scars added upon scars and blood became thicker and more of a lush red. He was becoming more disgusting looking, and he pulled away quicker whenever Zayn touched him. And he knew Zayn was aching, he was aching, and he wanted to actually feel Zayn. And he didn’t so much care if their ‘first time’ was special or not, he was more terrified of the welts that rose all over his bodies and remained there, enjoying their stay.
And then just as if he knew he was being thought of, almost like a sixth sense in his mind, Zayn burst into the bathroom, heedless of knocking. His eyes widened in half fear, half disgust as he sunk down beside Liam. Quickly reaching for tissue paper and covering up the cut, clotting the blood that spilled freely from the wound.
“Liam, you need help,” Zayn said firmly, no longer gentle.
And Liam, knowing that at some point it would come to this closed his eyes, and said with a sense of clarity, “I know.”